


First Impressions of the Closeted Kind

by Cogsbreak



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cogsbreak/pseuds/Cogsbreak
Summary: A potential look at just how Gregg and Angus met the first time.





	First Impressions of the Closeted Kind

It was dark in the pantry. It always was. It was something Angus had gotten used to, had learned to plan for; there was no telling when he'd do something wrong and his mother would have to punish him for it.

He had his little flashlight, the stash of batteries, his watch, and a little space on the floor that he could sit in, once he'd put the boxes and cans that'd gotten knocked down back. 

It was quiet, at least. As long as he was in the pantry, Mom wouldn't scream at him, and Dad wouldn't hit him.

Angus shifted in place a little and picked up one of the boxes of cake mix, turning it over and over in his hands. He glanced over the packaging with indifference – he'd seen it a dozen times before, and he'd see it dozens of times again. Instead, he hefted it in his hands a little bit, letting the weight of it anchor him and distract him from the ache of healing bruises.

A faint noise out in the kitchen dragged his attention back from where it'd started to wander. _Mom? Is she going to let me out now?_

He glanced at his watch. Three in the morning. Whatever that was, it wasn't his mother. Reflexively, he flipped his flashlight off.

Carefully, he pressed an ear to the door.

Someone was walking around out there – he could hear the fridge open, some soft sounds, and then the door closing.

The footsteps moved towards him – towards the pantry – and he instinctively shied away in the utter silence that had come from years of experience.

Someone fumbled at the lock.

The door swung open, and Angus squinted up through the dim light of another flashlight at the dark shape of an unfamiliar person.

The light swung up to the shelves, then back down to the bear.

“This is some Harry Potter shit,” the stranger muttered.

Angus blinked. Whoever it was, he – and it was definitely a he – sounded about as old as he was. Nervously, he shifted position a little bit.

“What're you doing here?” the stranger whispered.

Angus tilted his head, trying to see past the flashlight glare. “I live here.”

The light swung back up to the shelves and down to the bear again. “ _Here_?”

“This is my house,” Angus corrected. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” the stranger said with a smile that reflected light off a mouth full of pointed teeth. “ _Crimes_.”

Angus sucked in a breath of air and started to pant. There was a burglar in his house, right in front of him; who knows what he could be planning to do to him, and... His chest hurt. He could barely breathe. He fumbled for his inhaler, closed his eyes, and forced himself to suck in a lungful of air and the medication. _One... two... three..._ He counted. _One... two... three..._

He exhaled slowly, the ache slowly unknotting itself.

“You okay?”

Angus jumped, hit his head on the lowest shelf, and suppressed a yelp.

“... You okay still?”

He rubbed at the sore spot – _another bruise –_ and looked sullenly at the burglar. “What're you actually doing here?” he hissed.

“Got hungry.”

“So you _broke into my house_?”

The stranger shrugged and extended a hand. “Yeah, seemed like a good idea. I mean, it's a big house, the lights are out, it's in the better part of town... Gregg.”

Angus stared. “Sorry?”

“Gregg! It's my name.”

“O-oh. I'm Angus.”

Gregg opened his mouth and froze when a door shut somewhere above them.

“Go!” Angus hissed. “Shut the pantry door first, but go!”

Gregg hesitated, then nodded, shutting the door and – to Angus' surprise and relief – having the presence of mind to lock it, too.

Angus flicked his flashlight off and stuffed it in his pocket as he heard Gregg's footsteps fade. The kitchen light suddenly flaring under the pantry door made him cringe and cover his eyes again.

His mother rattled the door, found it locked, and stopped.

Angus held his breath, heart pounding.

The door shook again, and then, mercifully, she turned and left without a word, the light flicking off as she left.

Angus slumped back onto the hard tile, ignoring the twinges of pain from his bruises, and let his breath out in a long whoosh.

 

 

 

He clenched his eyes shut as the door swung open and the morning sun hit him full in the face.

“And just what were you doing last night?” his mother demanded, glowering at him.

Angus swallowed. “I wasn't doing anything... I was in here all night.”

She stood there, her expression changing from anger to icy disdain. “I heard a noise in the kitchen.”

“The door was locked...”

The door slammed shut on him again, and the lock clicked. “Then you're a sneak and lying to your mother,” she said after a few cans and boxes finished falling off of him. “And you can _stay_ in there until you apologize.”

“But...” Angus began, too late. She was gone again.

He leaned against the door and slid to the floor, hands covering his face.

 

 

 

Night eventually came and found the bear turning a can of chicken noodle soup over and over.

One-thirty AM. Time to see if he could telekinetically undo the lock again. It never worked, but there was always the hope that _this_ time... He closed his eyes, concentrated, tried to push at the latch with his mind...

_Click_.

Angus blinked, a surge of adrenaline and hope lifting him to his feet, just as the door opened without his help.

He had half a second of his hopes deflating before he realized who had opened it.

“Gregg?” he hissed. “What are you doing here? _Again_?”

“Dude, I came to check on you. This is the suckiest summer vacation I've ever seen. Toaster Tart?”

Angus' jaw dropped as the interloper offered him a silver packet. “You broke in? What's wrong with you?” Without the flashlight in his eyes, he could make out a bit more detail. Shorter than he was, orange fur, manic smile...

He looked familiar, but only in the “seen in passing at school” way.

“Yeah,” Gregg smiled ear-to-ear. “It's something I do. Toaster Tart?” He offered the wrapper again, and Angus took it cautiously, half afraid it was going to pop open and spill snakes everywhere.

It contained nothing more menacing than some slightly stale pastry and preprocessed fruit paste.

Angus ate it while giving Gregg the occasional confused glance. The fox was a little shorter than he was, now that he was able to take in more than the vaguest of details, and seemed to constantly be on the move somehow. Either an ear was flicking, his fingers were drumming his leg, or he was turning to stare at something new.

“Do you actually have a bedroom?” Gregg finally asked.

Angus swallowed the last of the Toaster Tarts. “Yeah, but...”

“But?”

“Sometimes... mom gets mad, and she locks me in the pantry...”

“What the _fuck_.”

Angus gaped at his “guest”, eyes wide.

“What'd you do, kill the family pet or something?”

Angus shook his head. “N-no, nothing like that. Just... sometimes I say something that makes her angry, or I forget to do something, and...”

“Dude, that is messed up,” Gregg interrupted. “I mean, I've pissed off family members too, but like. What the _fuck_.”

He just looked down at the floor and scuffed his feet on the linoleum.

Gregg shook his head and reached out to give Angus a pat on the shoulder. “Look, I can't stick around for long but like. I'll check on ya when I can, ok?”

“... Okay.”

Angus stiffened in surprise when Gregg suddenly wrapped him in a hug. “Try to hang on, all right? I'll be back.”

The bear could only nod as the pantry door shut again. This time it didn't feel so small.

 

 

 

“Hey, Angus,” a voice whispered from outside the pantry. 

There was no response.

“Angus?” Gregg fiddled with the latch, and swung the door open.

The pantry was empty.

Gregg shook his head with a faint smile and shut the door, glancing up towards where he'd learned Angus' room was.

“Good to know you're sleeping in a bed this time,” he murmured as he slipped out the back door.

He _thought_ about sneaking up to say hi, but with his luck, Angus' mother would catch him. And the bear did need to get some sleep in an actual bed.

_Maybe tomorrow._


End file.
